


Strangers On A Train

by OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)



Series: Adjacent [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Chance Meetings, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, M/M, POV Greg Lestrade, Then Deliberate Meetings, Trains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29897664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella
Summary: Greg's going to be taking a train on a regular basis, and he's got a pretty good idea how boring it's going to be.He's wrong, of course.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Adjacent [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1075677
Comments: 28
Kudos: 75





	1. One Large Man and Several Hat Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited about another instalment in the Adjacent series!  
> Firstly: I know the trains London to Edinburgh don't have compartments, and there are other details I've changed to better suit the story. Let's just all agree that since it's an AU anyway, the small differences are artistic licence and completely reasonable. So don't @ me, just enjoy the story, okay?  
> Secondly: We've got quite a few chapters for this one, so you can settle in as it chuffs out of this narrative station on the beginning of this journey!

Old fashion train carriages might have charm, Greg supposed, but it still felt intrusive to barge into an occupied compartment, even if there were spare seats. He’d bypassed several, unwilling to interrupt the young couple wrapped around each other, the trio of small children and their harried looking father, or the group of giggly looking girls hardly old enough to be travelling without an adult. He’d already endured hours of small talk and what he thought might have been awkward flirting and now he just wanted somewhere to sit quietly for a while.

Finally, Greg peered into a space he might be prepared to endure for the remaining half hour to Edinburgh. It was the last compartment in this carriage, so he was more relieved than he should be not to have to go back and chose from those questionable options. On first glance it appeared almost full, but most of the space was taken up by one very large man, head tilted back, mouth open as he slept against the window, and what looked to be several hat boxes. Greg had no idea how he knew they were hat boxes, or why someone would need so many. But there were enough seats for him to sit and from the look of it, he wouldn’t have to make small talk, nor would he be smiling tolerantly while enduring an inescapable social situation.

The other occupant didn’t even stir when he opened the door and settled in one of the innermost seats. There was plenty of room for his duffel above his head, and finally, Greg was able to relax. He drew a deep breath, holding it uncomfortably long before finally exhaling, eyes closed as he allowed tension to unspool from his muscles. Christ, his week had been long, and knowing he would be making this trip again – and every second week for the foreseeable future – didn’t make it any easier. In theory he could doze, or relax, or whatever people did on trains, but it wasn’t the same as sleeping in his bed, was it?

Anna didn’t see it the same way.

Whatever she did on her train trips down she managed to arrive with plenty of energy, Greg noticed. Enough to want him to take her out, a nice restaurant but not too far away and nothing oriental or sub-continental, she didn’t like foreign food. Greg had winced but brushed off the old-fashioned and frankly offensive terms and made a booking at Elm, a nice place by his standard. The kind of place you could be a regular on a hopefully-soon-to-be-promoted-to-DI’s salary, and Anna could order something she liked. Except that she didn’t like it, and they’d left before dessert, Greg’s face flaming at how dismissive she’d been of the staff.

He’d just wanted to lie on the sofa and cuddle, maybe something more if they both had the energy. Weekends were their only opportunity, after all, but she’d brushed him off, that night and the rest of the weekend, impatient to get out and 'experience London'. Greg had the distinct impression he was an afterthought. It was his turn to brush that off; he was hardly in a position to object, given how little energy he had on his weekends in Edinburgh.

No. He wasn’t going to think about it. Things would be easier in a couple of years. She’d taken this job back home in Edinburgh for her career, and it wouldn’t be long before she’d have the experience to return to London, hopefully in a much more senior role. They knew it would be difficult before they’d agreed. Well, she’d decided to take the job, then explained why she needed to, and Greg hadn’t argued.

Groaning, he pressed his head against the seat rest, squeezing his eyes closed. He wasn’t going to think about it. Hadn’t he just decided that? And yet the thoughts were still here.

_Si je pouvais comprendre ça, je pourrais me détendre…_

“Excuse me,” a voice sounded from opposite him, and Greg was so startled he jumped. “My apologies,” the voice continued.

Greg opened his eyes, blinking as he focussed on the person sitting opposite him.

_Jesus, he’s gorgeous._

“No problem,” Greg said automatically, trying not to be too obvious about it as he took stock of the man sitting opposite him.

Redhead, but trying to hide it.

Amazing suit, great posture.

Not entirely comfortable here. I bet he doesn’t take the train that often.

“I merely wished to enquire if you were well,” the man continued.

Posh as fuck.

Greg held in the smirk the thought triggered in him. It summed up both his assessment of this person and the kind of person he was in one very short sentence.

“Yeah, fine,” Greg said. He knew he sounded surprised; he had no idea what he might have been doing to make a stranger check on him.

“You appeared distressed,” the man said apologetically. He’d folded his hands over his crossed knee and Greg couldn’t help noticing how long his fingers were.

Greg cast his mind back before he knew this man was sitting here. What was he doing? Trying not to think about Anna, right. He winced, remembering how he’d tried to get rid of the thoughts, assuming he was basically alone.

“Yeah,” he said, embarrassment colouring his grin. “I just… a long week.”

“I see,” the man said. He hesitated before asking carefully, “The weekend does not offer an opportunity to rest?”

Greg tilted his head. He’d chosen this carriage to avoid small talk, and yet he wasn’t annoyed at the conversation this man was both instigating and making clear Greg could deny without offending him. Maybe it was his deference that made Greg more comfortable? He wasn’t pushing, but neither did he appear to be making the kind of small talk that expected superficial responses.

Okay, then. Real questions, real answers.

“I’m heading up to visit my wife,” Greg said. “It’s intense.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he winced, knowing how Anna would interpret the response. “Good, of course. To see her. And spend time with her. But…”

“Intense?” the man offered.

“Yeah,” Greg said.

“I imagine the short time frame would be accompanied by pressure to enjoy each moment without the natural ebb and flow of a relationship,” the man said.

“Like Christmas,” Greg said without thinking.

An eyebrows quirked, and the corners of the man’s mouth turned up. Greg wondered if that was his usual reaction to something he found surprising. It was remarkably restrained, either way.

“Precisely,” the man murmured. “You visit often?”

“We alternate,” Greg said. “I go up every alternate weekend and she comes down when she can.”

The eyebrow again, this time with an accompanying press of lips together. He’d picked the disparity between their commitments, then; Greg was expected up, no matter what, but Anna came when she could.

To his credit, the man simply nodded.

“It’s not ideal,” Greg said. “I’m Greg, by the way.” He raised one hand in a semi-wave instead of reaching forward the awkward distance to shake hands.

“Mike,” the man said after a pause, inclining his head far more elegantly than Greg had managed. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Same,” Greg replied. He wondered if Mike was his real name. He didn’t seem like a Mike. Maybe he went by Michael and he was conscious of appearing too proper?

“So do you anticipate a busy weekend?” Mike asked. “Will your wife have planned excursions and the such?”

“No,” Greg replied. “We usually talk when I get up there. Work out what we’re both up for, depending on how our week’s gone.”

He didn’t add that it was usually closer to an argument, but somehow he guessed Mike might have figured that out.

“Did you have something you were looking forward in particular on this visit?” Mike asked.

“I just want to go to bed for a month or so,” Greg said without thinking.

This time, the raised eyebrow accompanied a smirk that was definitely amused. “Indeed,” Mike said knowingly.

“Um, no,” Greg said, feeling both a flush and a grin spread over his face. “Jesus, this is probably too much information, but we don’t always…spend much time in bed, if you get my drift.”

“I believe I do,” Mike said, shifting. “No further explanation is required.”

“Are you sure?” Greg said, teasing now that he could see his discomfort was overshadowed by Mike’s. “I mean, I could…”

“No,” Mike said, and this time the smirk broadened into a smile. “Please, Gregory.”

Greg grinned again. He’d been a bit worried it would be overstepping, but Mike didn’t seem to think so. They’d fallen into this dynamic surprisingly easily, and it slid through his veins like honey. “Okay,” he said. “So I guess I’ll grab a cab to her place, then we’ll go out for dinner, probably home again and to sleep,” he said pointedly, a swirl of something blossoming in his belly at Mike’s knowing glance. “Then tomorrow…she might work a bit, and I might sleep some more, then,” he shrugged. This was the point at which they usually argued. Anna would insist she ‘had no choice’ but to work, and Greg would wonder why he’d bothered to come up at all, or else she’d be insisting he go out with her instead of getting more sleep when he was practically falling asleep at breakfast.

Mike was studying him carefully, and Greg felt his heart speed up as he waited for a reaction. Was there a flash of empathy in his eyes? Were they…not really brown, or hazel. Greg didn’t want to stare – or moreover he didn’t want to be caught staring – but it was maddening, not quite being able to put a name to the colour. It was almost dark outside, and the low light didn’t help.

After what felt like an interminable wait, Mike simply nodded. Greg was both disappointed and relieved. While he kind of wanted to know what his response would have been, but those sharp eyes must have seen more than he’d really planned on sharing, and hearing that assessment might not have been great.

“What’re you doing in Edinburgh?” Greg asked. “Don’t tell me your wife’s up there too?”

“Alas, I have no wife,” Mike said. His shoulders eased a little and Greg wondered if he’d been anxious at the idea of not quite talking about Greg’s difficult marriage anymore. “I am due in Edinburgh on business.”

“I get the impression you’re not really used to taking the train,” Greg said.

“I am not,” Mike admitted. “However it appears I will be doing so with some regularity in the future, so any tips would be appreciated.”

“Okay,” Greg said with a smile. “This is what I’ve learned. It’s all my point of view, though, so you might not agree with it all.”

“Understood,” Mike said.

“Avoid carriages with little kids, very young couples, or groups of older women,” Greg said. “It is a very long way to Edinburgh and there’s nothing worse than some kind of social thing you can’t get out of.”

“Agreed,” Mike replied. “I made that same assessment today, in fact.”

“Me too,” Greg said, grinning. “What else?” He frowned, chewing on his lower lip for a second. “Don’t eat the food if you can help it. It’s not lethal, so I understand, but I don’t really think it’s worth the risk either.”

“Noted,” Mike said with a smile. “Perhaps you could recommend a restaurant in Edinburgh? Several years have passed since my last visit.”

“Sure,” Greg said. He swallowed down the next words that rose. _I’ll take you to Shiv, their Gosht Pasanada is amazing._ Where had that come from? Jesus, he was married. “I’d recommend Aizle, or Shiv if you’re into Indian food. Either is good, but Aizle is a little pricier.”

“Thank you,” Mike said. “Indian food is a favourite in which I don’t often get a chance to indulge.”

“Yeah, you don’t really look like the type to do a Friday night take-away,” Greg said, hoping his personal comment wasn’t too much.

“Do you believe I am incapable of eating from a plastic container at the kitchen bench?” Mike asked, that eyebrow raising as Greg knew it would.

“Frankly, no,” Greg said. “How would you avoid getting it all down your expensive suit?”

Mike’s eyes sparkled. “I would point out that I need not be wearing a suit, Gregory,” he said, the smirk back with a vengeance.

Greg felt his mouth drop open at the blatant suggestion. He grinned, relief flaring in Mike’s eyes as he saw Greg wasn’t offended or upset.

_I’d forgotten it could be this easy._


	2. Two Elderly Ladies (But No Knitting)

It must have been some form of term holiday, judging by the number of adolescents on the train. Greg probably should have known that kind of thing, but as a homicide detective, he was more interested in the full moon. It had far more impact on his workload. As it was, he’d snared an empty compartment and unapologetically lied to every group of young people that looked to find a seat in there. There was no way he was going to share this space with excited chatter and awkward flirting for five hours. The leader of the last group was tall and solid, almost a man in all but attitude, and Greg’d had to flash his badge before they turned to saunter away.

Finally, two elderly ladies arrived, the hopefully expressions on their face too much. Greg smiled, opening his arm to invite them in, silently resigning himself to polite chatter and possibly reading the small print on a knitting pattern or two. To his surprise and relief, one of the women turned to him.

“Please don’t think us rude, dear, but we’re exhausted and we just want to listen to our stories. Would you let us know when we’re close to Edinburgh?”

“Of course,” Greg replied. His assumptions were firmly quashed when they sat beside each other and pulled out two pairs of headphones, fitting them neatly over soft curls before smiling at each other and closing their eyes. As Greg watched, one pressed the back of her hand into the leg of the other, and he wondered if they were a couple, used to hiding public demonstrations of their affection.

Either way, they were an ideal pair of companions for the journey. Despite all the young people, the train wasn’t full, and as they pulled out Greg let out a sigh of relief. There might be someone else looking for a seat, but it was unlikely to be anyone too rowdy, and he could always shoo them off if they looked like they might disturb the ladies.

“Good afternoon,” a familiar voice said from the doorway. “Might I join you?”

“Mike,” Greg said, the grin and the flutter in his belly coming at the same time. “Hi, yeah, come in.”

“I won’t be disturbing you?” Mike asked, indicating both Greg and the ladies sitting by the window.

“They’ve got their stories, I’ve got instructions to rouse them before we get into Edinburgh,” Greg said. “I think we can manage one extra person.”

“It is a relief to find space unsullied by the exuberance of youth,” Mike said, taking the seat opposite Greg.

They were sitting in the same relative position as last time, Greg noticed. “Had to turn away quite a few,” he admitted. “No way I’m spending this trip dealing with that.”

“Spoken like someone who deals with ‘that’ on a regular basis,” Mike said. “Might I offer you a lemon drop?”

“Thanks,” Greg said, taking one of the sweets. “God, I haven’t had one of these in years.”

“I allow myself one per trip,” Mike said, securing the packet back into his pocket. “Otherwise the whole packet would disappear.”

“Sweet tooth,” Greg said with a grin. “It’s a cross to bear.”

“It is indeed,” Mike replied. “Easter and Christmas test my strength to its limit most years.”

“Yeah, but is that family or food?” Greg asked. He’d been trying to be funny, but the pain that flashed across Mike’s face was real and raw. “Shit, sorry, it was just a joke.” He winced. “Sorry.”

“Not at all,” Mike replied. “I was referring to the temptation of food in both instances, but family time is always difficult.”

“You’re not close?” Greg asked. “I mean, if you only see them at Easter and Christmas.”

“That is the only time our whole family congregates,” Mike agreed. “My brother and I are…aware of each other’s presence in London. We are not in regular contact. And our parents are probably more interested in our lives than either of us would prefer, hence our agreement to return to the family home at Easter and Christmas.”

“Right,” Greg said. Rich, but not close to family. Some things were the same no matter how much money you had, he thought to himself. “So does that mean Santa and the Easter Bunny don’t visit your place?”

Mike blinked before the smile Greg remembered appeared. “Unfortunately, no,” he replied. “Might I assume they visit you?”

“No,” Greg said. “It’s been a long time for either. But I keep myself in chocolate oranges and there’s always an advent calendar, so it’s okay.”

Mike nodded. “A benefit of adulthood,” he murmured. “The ability to control your intake of sweets.”

“True,” Greg replied. He wondered what Mike was thinking about when he said that. It sounded significant, somehow. Silence fell between them for a second before he asked, “So, how was your last trip? I didn’t expect to see you heading back.”

“My previous trip was successful,” Mike said, “hence my reappearance on this train.”

Greg grinned. “You’ve made work for yourself,” he chided gently. “Do a more mediocre job and they’ll send someone else.”

The eyebrow flick. He’d forgotten how immediate it was, or how it was always accompanied by some other facial flicker. “Indeed they will,” Mike replied, “and opportunities are few and far between. Hence my willingness to return to Edinburgh on a regular basis.”

The phrase _regular basis_ made Greg shiver. There was no reason it should; they were strangers. He didn’t even know Mike’s last name, or what he did for a living. But the conversation last time had made the weekend easier to bear, somehow. He’d acquiesced to Anna’s demands, not even upset she’d ‘needed’ to work for so many hours on Saturday that they missed the show he’d hoped they might catch. The memory of easy conversation kept him company as he wandered on his own for a few hours, stopping for a beer, content to sit on his own in the weak Scottish sunlight.

“Did you get out to see any of Edinburgh last time?” Greg asked. “It wasn’t raining, which is about as much as you could have asked of the weather, really.”

“I spent a year at university in Edinburgh many years ago,” Mike said. “Most of the tourist sites are familiar to me. I did however take your suggestion to eat at Shiv.”

“And?” Greg asked. He and Anna had been there on Saturday. Something twirled in his stomach at the idea he and Mike were both there in the same afternoon. The same evening, maybe? Imagine running into him there. He could picture Anna’s face…and the ensuring argument. For all her essential work on his weekends there, her jealously was quick to rear its head if anything pulled Greg’s attention away from her.

“You were correct, the food was excellent,” Mike told him. “Though I ate in the restaurant instead of at the kitchen bench of my suite.”

“Okay,” Greg said. “I’ll assume being at the restaurant helped with the,” he indicated the front of his shirt.

“Indeed,” Mike replied with a smile. “I found myself fully able to eat without the need to undress in the restaurant.”

Greg chuckled. They’d hinted at such an idea last time, but Mike’s boldness here was a surprise. “I’m sure that was a relief,” he grinned.

“To everyone present, I’m sure,” Mike replied.

Greg bit the inside of his cheek to keep the words inside. _I don’t know, I wouldn’t mind._ Mike was holding his gaze, and though the eyebrow remained still, Greg wasn’t quite sure if he’d understood. The light was better today than last time, and now it was clear Mike’s eyes were grey. It was surprising how clear the colour was. It wasn’t grey-ish green, or stormy blue-grey, but a true silver flecked with slate.

Instinctively he knew the colour would shift and he wondered what might make that happen.

“We were there too,” Greg said. “Saturday night.”

“Ah,” Mike said. “And do you have a regular order?”

“I do,” Greg told him. “Anna’s not a huge fan.”

“Yet you both ate there on Saturday?” Mike asked. 

“Well, kind of,” Greg replied. “I ordered to take away.”

“I see,” Mike said, in a voice that made it clear he didn’t.

“She doesn’t like,” he hesitated, “international food.”

“Something tells me your wife does not describe it so,” Mike said carefully.

“She doesn’t,” Greg said.

Why was that moment painful? Greg sat with the uncomfortable feeling, aware of Mike’s eyes on him as he wrestled with it. Mike knew he’d paraphrased Anna. Even though he’d never met Anna, and they’d spent barely an hour talking in their whole lives. Obviously Mike was observant – he probably had the kind of job where he had to pay attention to people. But it wasn’t quite enough to explain it away. With a deep and hopefully subtle breath, Greg pulled out the reason he’d avoided.

Mike was good at reading him. Him, specifically. And – the second part, and perhaps the most uncomfortable – he wasn’t used to it. Not at work, where his ability to fake it to people who didn’t know him well outplayed their professional training. And not at home, where…

“You’re good at reading people,” Greg said quietly, cutting his thoughts short.

“A professional skill,” Mike allowed. “Please forgive me if I overstep. I am unused to applying my skill in social situations.”

“You’re doing fine,” Greg said with a grin.

The silence was eased by Greg’s assurance, and they sat for a few minutes, the gentle sway of the carriage quietly soothing.

“Do you play chess?” Mike asked suddenly.

“I know the rules,” Greg replied cautiously. “Kind of.”

“Checkers, then?” Mike asked. He pulled out a small travel set. “To pass the time, perhaps.”

“Do you always have this with you?” Greg asked, grinning as Mike opened the box and started setting up tiny checkers pieces.

“I do,” Mike replied. “I play against my brother, if he is so inclined. Otherwise, opponents can easily be found online.”

“But you like having a set in front of you,” Greg said, sitting forward.

“I do,” Mike said.

“Does your brother play often?” Greg asked. “I got the impression you didn’t get along.”

Mike was silent until the set was ready to play. He balanced it on his knee, answering with his eyes still on the pieces. “We do not,” he said. Those grey eyes flashed up to meet Greg as he admitted, “We are both…skilled at chess. Finding casual players at a challenging level is not easy.”

“So you play each other,” Greg surmised.

“If he consents,” Mike agreed. “You go first.”

Greg moved a piece, thinking about Mike’s last comment. It sounded like he was more interested in seeing his brother than his brother was in him. And yet there was only resignation in his voice. It must be old pain, if he could cover it so well. Greg flashed a glance up at Mike, who appeared to be studying the board with more intent than should be needed for someone who played chess at a high-ish level. The avoidance was clear, but Greg wasn’t going to call Mike on it. After all, he clearly didn’t want to discuss it.

Maybe they were good at reading each other.


	3. One Woman, Her Book, and A Very Specific Battery Charger

There was nothing more frustrating than facing a sold out train and knowing the next wouldn’t leave for an hour. Greg ground his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t going to admit how much he’d wanted to run into Mike again. No, he was just looking forward to seeing his wife, who’d missed the last three of her weekends coming down to London. They hadn’t talked about it, not really, but Greg knew there was some kind of Significant Conversation in his very near future. And if they wanted the chance to fight, sulk, and make up enough for him to return to London on time, they were going to have to start tonight, ideally.

“Gregory?”

Greg blinked, turning.

“Mike,” he breathed. “Hi, how’s it going?”

“I am well,” Mike replied. He glanced at Greg’s empty hands, his duffel at his feet. “Are you not travelling today?”

“Not until the next train,” Greg said, trying to keep the frustration from his voice. “Second class is sold out, so I’m in for a wait.”

Mike looked at him for a long beat. “Will you wait a moment?” he asked.

“Sure,” Greg said, pushing down his pleasure at seeing Mike again. He waited as Mike went to the ticket window, presumably to buy a ticket. At least they’d be on the same train, even if there would be an hour to wait. He wondered how Mike would feel about waiting in the pub around the corner. The food was okay, and they could get a drink or two…

“Gregory,” Mike said, handing him something.

“First class?” Greg said, looking at the ticket. “What’s this?”

“We’ll have to hurry to make the train,” Mike said. “Perhaps I could explain on the way?”

Greg blinked, but he was moving before he even really nodded. They walked fast. He hadn’t realised Mike was taller than him until now. They’d been sitting the whole time, and though he’d definitely noticed how long Mike’s legs were, he didn’t really consider how it would add up when they were standing. Not that he minded; they made it to the train right as the conductor was ushering the last people on board. He followed Mike onto the carriage marked First, and they were moving before they’d found their assigned seats.

“Half empty,” Greg murmured, grateful they’d be able to talk. There was a woman by the window reading a book, and she glanced up as they entered. Greg waved, and she did the same, but Mike’s hands were still moving. Greg frowned until he realised Mike was signing at her, and she in return.

“You can sign,” Greg said, as they took their usual seats. He ignored the flutter in his belly at the idea of usual seats, instead watching Mike settle himself.

_He must have requested these seats._

“I can,” Mike replied.

“How did you know she signs?” Greg asked. He didn’t want to stare, but he hadn’t noticed anything in the few seconds since they’d entered the compartment.

“There’s a cochlear implant under her hair,” Mike said. “Not a guarantee, but more likely than the general population.”

“How on earth did you notice that?” Greg said. He thought he was pretty observant, but that was another whole level.

“There’s a battery charger plugged in behind her,” Mike explained. “The batteries charging are an unusual size, used primarily for cochlear implants.” He flashed Greg a smile. “Given the chance wouldn’t you prefer not to be interrupted?”

“So you looked for the implant because of the batteries?” Greg asked, still checking he was following.

“Correct,” Mike confirmed. He had crossed his legs and his hands were folded together in his lap. It was perfectly normal, except that Greg knew how he usually sat. And this was not a relaxed posture. Tight shoulders, fingers gripping hard, tense jaw, the muscles around stormy grey eyes pulling more than they should. Classic signs of tension, perhaps, but Greg didn’t have to look, his eyes found the differences automatically.

Greg swallowed. When had he learned Mike so well?

“Jesus, that’s brilliant,” Greg blurted. He had no idea why he’d let that out, but he had to say something, and it was his honest response. Whatever Mike had been braced against Greg’s words were unexpected, and Greg felt a fizz of awareness.

It was the first time he thought he might be seeing the real, unrestrained response from Mike. His jaw unclenched, eyes softening and hands flexing before resettling in a much looser formation in his lap. The tightness in his shoulders melted away, and the smile he directed at Greg was tentative, as though he wasn’t used to accepting compliments.

“Thank you,” he said finally.

Greg watched as uncertainty flooded over Mike. The tension was gone, but it was like he’d gone too far in the other direction. Everything in his demenour told Greg was trying to make himself smaller, less obvious.

“Hey,” Greg said, lowering his voice even though he trusted Mike’s assessment of their carriage-mate’s hearing. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all,” Mike said. He must have clocked Greg’s scepticism, because his face flushed pink. “Perhaps,” he allowed, the reluctance tempered with a self-conscious smile. “Genuine compliments are few and far between.”

Greg nodded. “Okay,” he said. That sounded like something he was curious about, but they definitely didn’t know each other well enough for him to ask yet.

“So I’m guessing you’re still in the good books, professionally speaking?” Greg asked.

Mike shifted, taking out his lemon drops. He passed the bag to Greg as he answered, “I apologise, but I’m not at liberty to discuss my work.”

“Sure,” Greg said. “Probably not a relaxing topic of conversation, anyway.”

“True,” Mike replied. He studied Greg, slipping the lemon drop in his pocket. “If we were to discuss a topic of your choosing, what would that entail?”

Greg had to pause to work out what Mike meant. Oh, right. “Football, probably,” he said. “Though I don’t follow it as closely as I’d like. Work’s always busy, and I keep my weekends free for Anna.”

“Does she come to the football when your weekends are in London?” Mike asked.

Greg couldn’t help snorting at the idea of Anna at the football. “Um, no. She’s never been to the football. She’s more a theatre and fine dining kind of person.”

“And those are pastimes you enjoy too?” Mike asked.

Normally Greg would breeze past this question, but something in the way Mike asked, as though he already knew the answer, made him pause, searching for the truth instead. It was buried fairly deep, under a pile of things he didn’t examine too closely about his relationship with Anna.

“No,” he said quietly. “No, I don’t.”

Another silence, punctuated several times by the woman turning the page of her book. How did they keep ending up talking about things Greg didn’t really want to talk about? Or things Mike didn’t want to talk about. For strangers, their conversation skirted the edges of some pretty deep stuff. Greg was surprised he didn’t shy away from it.

“I never asked about these tickets,” Greg said. “You bought us first class tickets.”

Mike nodded. “There are generally first class tickets available,” he replied. “And the idea of arriving an hour later was not appealing.”

“Yeah,” Greg said. He reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“No, please,” Mike said. He hesitated, adding carefully, “I don’t…I appreciate your company. The cost of the ticket is a small expense to gain your conversation.”

Greg paused, but tucked his wallet back into his jacket. “I’d argue,” he admitted, “but I can’t really afford first class, not with having to buy so many tickets at the moment. So I’ll just say thanks. I’ve enjoyed our conversations, too.”

Mike smiled. “I expect it’s a drain on anybody’s resources,” he empathised.

“Yeah,” Greg replied. He rubbed his eyes. “Less sleep this week than usual,” he admitted. “I’m studying for an exam at work.” For some reason he didn’t explain any further. He and Mike didn’t really know details about each other, and he kind of liked it like that. “No time off to study, so it’s been late nights.”

Mike nodded. “In addition to your weekends, that sounds stressful,” he replied. “When is your examination?”

“Two weeks today,” Greg said. “I should find out pretty soon after, thank goodness.”

“Some well-deserved rest,” Mike said, with a smile. “Regardless of the outcome.”

“Yes and no,” Greg said. It was weird talking about this stuff without censoring himself. “Yes, I’ll get my weeknights back. But I’ll still be up and down to Edinburgh. And,” he took a deep breath, this was a new admission, “Anna hasn’t come down for…for a while.”

Mike nodded, the ticking of his brain almost audible over the rhythm of the train. “Is that… would you care to elaborate?” he asked, offering so gently Greg felt a lump grow in his throat.

“I just…it means I’ve had some weekends off,” Greg said, feeling like the worst kind of heel at describing time without his wife in such a manner. “To do some stuff I needed to get done.”

Mike nodded. “And perhaps choose some things to complete without…conflict?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Greg whispered. Christ, when had it got so bad? “We fight all the time,” he muttered, looking at his hands. He knew it wouldn’t take someone as observant as Mike to see the tension in his body. He could feel it, his shoulders pulling up, hunched over himself as though his twisted fingers pressed into his lap in physical pain. His whole face was tight, the frown no doubt exaggerating the lines already showing on his face.

“We’ll have a fight this weekend about…that. About…” he drew a deep breath, forcing himself to shrug in conclusion, knowing it wasn’t enough but unable to find the words for the rest.

“About how much more effort you are putting into your marriage?” Mike asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Greg whispered again. “I haven’t ever…I mean, I’ve not said it exactly that way. But…yeah.”

Mike nodded. “I’m sorry to phrase the situation so,” he said, but Greg was already shaking his head before the last of the words were out.

“No,” he said. “I’ve been avoiding…a lot of things, I think.” He scrubbed his hands down the front of his jeans, conscious again of Mike’s eyes on him. There was no hiding here, but while he was anxious about what this conversation had force him to face, Mike’s gentle scrutiny wasn’t uncomfortable. Greg was used to eyes on him being expectant (work) or impatient (Anna) or judgemental (also Anna). Not…whatever this was. Protective, or caring or something.

_Jesus._

A train was not the place to get this flavour of introspective.

“Anyway, I guess we’ll have to talk,” Greg said. He took a deep breath and looked up, smiling in a way that felt fake and would certainly not fool Mike. “So we’ll just see how that goes, I guess.”

“If it’s not an imposition,” Mike said, “I would very much like to hear the outcome. Can I assume you’ll be on this train in two weeks?”

Warmth spread through Greg and he swallowed hard. Was it really that long since someone had been nice? “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I will.” He cleared his throat, realising that he might not actually have a reason, if things went badly. “I’ll be here,” he said. “Catch you up on what’s going on, either way.”

Mike studied him. “Shall we meet in the last second-class carriage?” he suggested tentatively.

“Sure,” Greg replied. This weekend wouldn’t be fun, precisely, but at least he’d have something to look forward to.


	4. An Unavoidable Quartet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “People speaking English are indicated like this,” the author explained.
> 
> “{However people speaking French have these squiggly brackets},” she added.

The second class carriages were full, there was no way around it. Greg had arrived early; he wanted to make sure they could get good seats, but in the end it was all he could do to defend the last remaining seat in his compartment until Mike appeared. As it was, they would be seated beside each other, their compartment-mates a pair of older woman whose judgement Greg could almost taste, though he’d done nothing but smile politely at them, and a man who refused to allow his dog in its carrier to be placed on the floor or under the seat. The heated discussion was already in progress when Greg arrived.

Apparently he’d bought a ticket for Snuffles and hence, she was entitled to a seat. The women objected on the possibility they might be bitten, a suggestion to which the man took deep offense, so by the time Greg had turned away several hopeful looking people, there was an air of grievous injury surrounding both parties. He ignored them all, unwilling to be drawn into the discussion, let alone be asked to take sides. The journey would be long enough without all that to contend with. Especially since he’d bet his admittedly tiny pension everyone would be listening to his conversation with Mike.

“You found me,” Greg said, smiling as Mike finally slid open the compartment and dropped into the seat beside him.

He edged sideways, though his hip was now pressed against Snuffles’ carrier. Mike flashed him a smile and Greg let out a knot of tension he didn’t realise he’d been holding onto. The idea of seeing Mike again had buoyed him through the previous two weeks, and they’d been a stinker as far as professional and personal experiences went. Sometimes everything came together, other times it all fell apart at the same time, and it seemed he was closer to the latter right now.

“I apologise for my late arrival,” Mike said, nodding a greeting to the decidedly interested trio of humans in their compartment. “An unavoidable matter.”

“Work or brother?” Greg asked sympathetically.

Mike flashed him a look Greg couldn’t quite interpret. From this close, his eyes were remarkably expressive, and Greg wondered if he noticed the same things in Greg. “Brother,” he said finally, flashing a glance at the other occupants of their carriage.

“Sibling problems, huh?” one of the women asked, speaking over her friend who grimaced sympathetically.

Greg glanced at her, and then at Mike, whose face changed almost immediately. His expression became neutral, all expression wiped clean. Greg immediately wondered if he’d worked in customer relations at some point.

“The matter is private,” Mike said, in a tone that was polite and yet made it clear he wouldn’t discuss the matter further.

The woman snorted. “We’re here for five hours, m’dear, we’ll all know by the end if you plan on telling your friend anything at all.”

Mike studied her for a second before asking, “Might I ask where you grew up?”

She blinked. “Kinsale, County Cork,” she said.

“Both of you?” Mike asked.

“Yes,” she answered, glancing at her friend.

Mike nodded, turning to the man in the room. “And yourself?” he asked in a tone not to be ignored.

Greg swallowed. He hadn’t seen this side of Mike. Spine drawn straight, everything about him said, ‘I’m accustomed to being obeyed,’ and it was…fascinating. Greg’d been watching the women, but flicked his eyes back to Mike. His expression was the same – politely interested, but there was steel underneath.

“I grew up on Guernsey,” Snuffles’ owner said defensively. “Why?”

Mike nodded again. He flicked a glance at Greg. “{Without meaning to offend anybody, those are the last places on Earth I would ever visit, would you agree?}” he asked pleasantly, raising his eyebrows to all their compartment mates.

“What?” the man said. His brow furrowed, and he glanced at the women. “Did he ask us something?”

“Do you know what he said, Mary?” the woman who’d spoken earlier asked her companion.

“You know I didn’t take French,” she hissed, eyes on Mike. “It’s quite rude to speak to someone in a language they don’t understand, you know.”

“Yes, I am aware,” Mike replied in English. “Fortunately, I will not be addressing any of you.” He smiled. “Enjoy your journey.”

Greg’s mouth had dropped open at some point; he closed it, eyes passing over three outraged faces as Mike lowered his voice to address Greg in French.

“{I believe we will be able to speak in relative privacy},” he said.

Greg pulled his eyes back around, pressing his lips together as he met Mike’s amused eyes. “{I agree},” he said. “{I don’t think we’ll be too popular with the others, though}.”

Mike nodded seriously. “{I’m not sure that’s a consideration for me},” he said. “{If you would prefer to continue in English…}”

“{Nope},” Greg said, grinning. “{Remember how I said the thing was brilliant last time}?”

Mike nodded, his smile widening. “{I do}.”

“{This would be up there},” Greg said. He glanced back. The man had pulled out a book and the women were both looking out the window, their faces set in twin expressions of disapproval.

“{Okay, so now you need to explain how you know I speak French},” Greg said. His French was a little rusty, but it was coming back fast.

“{The first time we met, you were speaking to yourself in French},” Mike admitted.

“{I was}?” Greg replied. What had he been thinking about before Mike spoke to him the first time? Something about Anna…

“{Right. Anna and I sometime speak in French. An old habit from when she was studying and wanted to work on her conversational skills}.”

“{And you often address yourself in French}?” Mike asked. He was clearly very comfortable in this language; Greg recognised the colloquialisms, and his accent was perfect. Somehow, it wasn’t a surprise at all.

“{Sometimes},” Greg admitted. “{My father insisted we speak French at home. He was worried we’d never use it enough to be fluent if we didn’t}.”

Mike nodded. “{I understand},” he said. He cleared his throat, eyes flicking past Greg for a second before he said, “{My brother is seven years younger than me. It is natural, I suppose, that I take a protective role}.”

“{Let me guess, he’s not a fan of that}?” Greg asked.

“{No},” Mike said, his smile wry and sad. “{The balance is difficult}.”

“{And your parents}?” Greg asked, hoping he wasn’t overstepping the mark. For some reason, things were easier to talk about in French. Maybe it was just more expressive.

“{He is even less accepting of their help},” Mike said. “{My brother is very intelligent, however he disregards his personal safety on a regular basis. I find myself cleaning up his mistakes, and ensuring he remains out of jail. Where possible}. ”

Greg nodded. Whatever he thought Mike did for a living, he evidently had a fair bit of power. “{How old is he}?” he asked.

“{Thirty-four},” Mike said.

“{Okay},” Greg said, ignoring the little voice that pointed out Mike must be close to his own age. “{So he’s a grown up, right}?”

Mike nodded, frowning. Greg wasn’t sure this was the best idea, but Mike had taken a risk to try and help him see something differently, so he figured he could try the same. His heart did pound before his mouth opened.

“{I’m not saying you shouldn’t worry about him},” Greg said, choosing his words carefully, “{but he’s a grown up. I’m wondering if consequences would help him make different choices}?”

Mike didn’t answer immediately. He shifted, and Greg felt his thigh press against him before it moved away. He’d almost forgotten how close they were. It was just how close Mike was, now. How odd it would be next time, when they were sitting opposite each other again.

Assuming there was a next time.

“{No matter which way I consider it},” Mike said finally, “{the only consequence I see for my brother involves an undignified and often violent death}.”

Greg blinked. He knew his lips were parted. Whatever he’d thought Mike was going to say, that was not it. “{I’m sorry},” he said quietly. “{I didn’t realise things were quite so…serious}.”

Mike nodded. “{It is not something I generally discuss},” he said.

“{Thank you},” Greg said quietly. “{For sharing it with me},” he added.

“{Our conversations have been a welcome departure from my usual interactions},” Mike admitted.

“{Me too},” Greg said.

They sat in silence again. Greg was going to speak again when he felt a sharp pain in his hip – the dog carrier.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, turning to face the owner of the dog.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, in a tone decidedly unapologetic. “I was just checking on Snuffles. She’s not a good traveller.”

Greg nodded, deliberately biting back the sharp comment. He was turning back to Mike when something came into his field of view.

A scarf, navy and soft, held by a hand he would recognise even if it wasn’t coming from the same side as Mike was sitting on. “{Place it between you and the hell-hound carrier},” Mike said, his voice even lower, the French words rolling off his tongue as though for Greg specifically.

Greg couldn’t help but grin as he took the scarf, meeting Mike’s eyes as he closed his fingers around…well, it was the scarf, but it was also Mike’s fingers. He drew back, the surprise on Mike’s face enough to make him wonder if a swirl of awareness had made its way through Mike, too.

“{Thanks},” Greg murmured. He tucked it against his hip, conscious it had been pressed against Mike’s skin at some point. To his relief, Mike spoke, continuing in French as though it was natural for them to do so. Greg was grateful. It felt like privacy, even if the others in their compartment weren’t happy about it.

“{If memory serves correctly, your examination was today},” Mike said. “{Also, I would be interested to hear about your previous weekends, if you wish to tell me. If not, I understand entirely}.”

Greg nodded, swallowing. That was a whole conversation in itself right there. “{The exam went well},” he said. “{Glad it’s over, though}.”

“{I’m sure},” Mike replied. “{And your results will be available soon}?”

“{Yeah},” Greg said. “{Early next week, if I’m lucky}.”

“{I’m sure your diligence will be rewarded},” Mike said.

“{I hope so},” Greg said. He took a deep breath. “{I told Anna not to come down last weekend, so I could study. And sleep. But I didn’t tell her about the sleep}.”

Mike’s eyebrow rose, accompanied by a wide smile. “{Odd as it might sound, I am proud of you},” he said quietly. “{Might I assume she was not pleased}?”

“{She was not pleased},” Greg agreed. “{It’s a good segue into the weekend, though}.”

“{It is},” Mike agreed. “{And how was the experience of this weekend where you slept and studied}?”

Greg paused. He was fairly sure Mike was asking more than ‘did you feel rested and prepared’. “{I didn’t feel guilty},” he said slowly. “{Or annoyed that Anna didn’t come down when she was supposed to}.”

Mike nodded. “{You made your needs clear},” he said. “{Forgive my assumption, but from what you have said, that is not a common event}.”

“{It’s not},” Greg replied, unsurprised Mike had seen the truth of the situation. “{I didn’t start with that. I asked why she hadn’t come down lately. She said work, of course. So I said if our work is so important, she should stay in Edinburgh so I could study for work the next time}.” He frowned. “{I mean, it was last weekend}.”

“{I understand},” Mike murmured.

“{She wasn’t happy},” Greg continued. It felt so good to explain this to someone, especially someone who knew at least part of the history. “{Said my job wasn’t as important. Well, she implied it}.”

Mike nodded. “{And you won’t find out the results of your exam},” he said. He hesitated. “{Might I ask…are you intending to visit your wife this weekend}?”

Greg nodded. He could feel the shame of his acquiescence as he said, “{We agreed to think about what we want. About what might need to change if this is going to work}.”

Mike nodded. “{I’m sorry},” he said quietly. Greg started as he felt Mike’s hand land on his knee, giving a brief squeeze before it disappeared again. “{It must have been a stressful period}.”

Greg looked out the window for a while. He wanted to get his reaction under control before meeting Mike’s eyes again. How could one small gesture of support have such an effect?

“{Yes and no},” he said, without turning back. The man was still reading his book; the women were talking quietly, though one glanced at Greg before turning back to her companion. He pulled in a deep breath. This was the core of the things he didn’t admit to himself, but somehow Mike created this kind of safe space, the two of them speaking French so nobody could understand them. It was like having their own cone of silence.

“{Yes},” Greg said, turning partway back but not meeting Mike’s eyes. Instead he focussed on his hands, pressing flat into the tops of his thighs. “{I mean, you’re meant to be able to talk to your wife, right? You’re meant to miss them when they live five hours away}.” He swallowed. “{You’re meant to want to see them}.”

Mike didn’t speak, so Greg continued. “{But no},” he said, “{it wasn’t stressful. I didn’t feel like I should be calling her. I wasn’t trying to work out if she was being reasonable or not}.” Another swallow, highlighting how dry his mouth had become. “{I didn’t miss her. I didn’t want to see her. It was easier without her there}.”

His eyes remained on his hands, zeroing in on his wedding band.

_Why am I still wearing that?_


End file.
